


Harry Potter and the Death Note

by An_Error_has_occured



Category: Death Note, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:25:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Error_has_occured/pseuds/An_Error_has_occured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Death Note, the most dangerous weapon in the history of murder. In a world of genius muggles, it's user is nearly impossible to beat. How will this weapon fare in a world of witches and wizards when wielded by one of their own?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

Harry Potter and the Death Note

I make no money off this; I don’t own Harry Potter or Death Note.

 

 

It was a perfectly ordinary day in Surrey. At Number Four, Privet Drive, Vernon Dursley got up early in the morning, just as he did every day. He went downstairs, the foundation creaking underneath him, to find his wonderful wife already cooking breakfast. He planted a kiss on her cheek as he settled down to read the paper and drink a cup of straight black coffee. Like a real man, none of that sissy cream and sugar.

Just a few minutes after he came down, his son came down the stairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, but eager to get up early, as it was what his dad did. Vernon was particularly proud of his son, who strived to imitate everything his father did. Of course, his son picked up a comic book rather than the paper, and slurped back some Coca-Cola. Vernon practically swelled with emotion as his son checked his posture, making sure it matched his father.

His good mood was shortly ruined when a slight figure with messy black hair ghosted in the front door; face smeared with dirt, and found his place at the table, sitting silently.

The boy looked nothing like the rest of the family; while Vernon and Dudley’s blonde hair laid flat against their skulls, practically looking combed right out of bed, the boy’s black unruly hair stuck up at every direction. He had green eyes that were always narrowed, glaring at the world. But Vernon was glad his hair at least covered his most prominent aspect, a scar that marked the boy’s forehead. He was unsightly enough already.

“I finished the gardening, Auntie.” The boy muttered, fidgeting slightly in his chair as if uncomfortable. Petunia pursed her lips, and checked the front garden through the window. Her disapproving look sharpened and she turned back to the boy, who was looking hungrily at the simmering bacon on the stove.

“You didn’t do a good enough job planting the petunias. They should be in three straight lines, four in each row. Go out and do it right this time.” She told the boy tersely. Vernon respected her for her frank dealing with the boy. He himself didn’t like to deal with him, but he was glad she was so skilled at putting the boy in his place.

The boy accepted his new assignment with nary a grumble, heading out to redo the yard with no food as punishment for not doing it right the first time. They had to be tough on him if they wanted him to be as respectable as Dudley.  

A few minutes later Petunia served up two rashers of bacon, one for Dudley and one for Vernon, along with a side of eggs. One of Vernon’s life lessons was that you could never have too much bacon, and he and Dudley followed that lesson near religiously. Petunia had a salad while her boys dug into their hearty breakfast with vigor.

Right afterwards Vernon went upstairs to clean himself, trim his moustache, and get dressed. Before he walked out the door he kissed his wife again and ruffled his son’s hair, wishing him a good day at school.

When he walked out the front door he immediately noticed something was off. The petunias were all planted in the yard, just as they were supposed to, but the boy wasn’t there. Instead, he was kneeling on the pavement, in the road, as if looking at something.

Looking left and right, Vernon saw none of his neighbors around to witness this deplorable lack of self-preservation. He darted into the road, at least as much a man of his stature could dart, and grabbed the boy roughly around the middle, dragging him back into the yard and into the foyer of the house.

Once behind closed doors, Vernon rounded on the boy. “What do you think you were doing?” He growled. The boy shuffled, avoiding eye contact with his uncle. “Boy, tell me right now why you were sitting in the middle of the street.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle. “ The boy said fearfully. He finally met Vernon’s gaze, looking imploringly into his uncles eyes. “I was done with the gardening, and I was gonna come in but I saw something.” He held up something that Vernon hadn’t realized the boy was carrying when he had grabbed him. Out of curiosity, he took it.

It was a thin black book, with a hard cover like a textbook. He felt an odd chill go through him, but he shrugged it off and opened it. It was filled with blank pages, with lines going across each page marking where one should write. It was just a notebook.

“I looked up, and I saw this book, it was falling, like someone had thrown it out of a plane, but there was no plane, it just fell out of the sky.” The boy babbled.

A quiet calm settled across Vernon’s face, but inside a storm had broken loose. He pushed the boy into the kitchen, surprising his wife, and stuffed the notebook into his briefcase, vowing to get rid of it. Nothing that fell from the sky could be good news. He would tell his wife later, and they would try to further discourage the idea of magic in this household, but for now he needed to go to work.

He got into his car and tried to forget about the notebook he had in his briefcase, his resolve so strong he didn’t even see the shadow that raced behind his car.

 

\------------------------------------------------ 

 

When Vernon got to work, he quickly managed to lose himself in his work. He was moving up in this company, and was quickly becoming the best seller in Grunnings. By the time lunch rolled around, he had completely forgotten about anything odd happenstances. He worked at his desk, filling out some paperwork, when a light began blinking on his desk phone.

“Yes, Renee? What is it?” He asked, trying to balance talking to his receptionist and writing down information.

_“I got a call from a Mr. Harrison Jones here; he wants to talk with you about a deal for around 2,000 drills.”_

Vernon’s heart picked up a little and a grin split his face. He had been working on getting Jones as a client for a while now, and if he managed to sell that many drills then he would definitely get a raise.

“Alright, please put him on.” Vernon requested. _“Actually, he just left me a number for you to call so that you can contact him later. The number is 779…”_

“Wait! Give me a moment; I need to write this down.” Vernon had an awful memory for phone numbers, and normally had a pad of paper to write them down on, but he was out. The only other paper he had was his paperwork, which he had to turn in and…the notebook.

Somewhat apprehensively, Vernon pulled out the notebook and began flipping through it, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He found none. It simply was a regular, college-ruled notebook.

_“Sir?”_

“Hm? Oh, right, give me the number.” She fed him the number and he jolted it down, putting down Jones’s name down so he would remember. He might just use this notebook to record numbers in the future. In fact, he wrote down the time he planned to call him, 2:30, which was when he planned to be done with his paperwork.

Time flew by as Vernon worked, and he gradually got more excited. If he got a raise then he could afford to get his son that game system he wanted, and maybe get Petunia some new earrings. He spared no thought for his nephew.

Finally, he finished with his work and sent it off to be finalized. He checked his watch and saw that it was 2:28. Might as well call Jones right now; get this deal in the bag as soon as possible. He pulled out the notebook and found the number, calling it right away.

_“Hello, office of Harrison Jones, this is Amy.”_

“Hello, Amy, this is Vernon Dursley. I was told to contact Mr. Jones so we can work on a deal. Is he available?”

_“Yes, Harrison-I mean Mr. Jones- has been awaiting your call. I’ll transfer you immediately.”_

Vernon chuckled slightly. Even over the phone, he could tell from the way she addressed her superior that Amy and Jones were quite fond of each other. Ah, office romance. If only he were a younger man…

_“This is Harrison Jones. Is this Mr. Dursley of Grunnings Handheld Drills?”_

“It is indeed, sir. Were you interested in purchasing one of our fine drills?”

_“Well, I was hoping to buy more than one, but…”_ Jones’s playful tone was suddenly cut off by an odd choking noise, as if he had been punched.

“Mr. Jones? Are you alright?” All Vernon heard was wheezing from the other end, then the sound of something hitting the ground. He stared at the phone in his hand in shock. What the hell? He still held the phone to his head, and he heard the sound of someone screaming.

_“Oh my god! He’s dead! He’s dead; he’s had a heart attack!”_ Vernon hung up the phone with a sick feeling in his stomach. His eye reflexively caught the clock. It was just a few seconds past 3:30.

Now, Vernon was not exactly a stupid man. Intolerant of strange freaks who wanted to disturb the natural order of the world with their abilities, yes. But he had a Master’s degree in business and he knew how to use his head when he needed to.

He was in possession of a notebook that his nephew had seen fall from the sky. He had written a man’s name down, and a time and that man had died at exactly that time. And while he was no scientist, and while he hated magic, he figured some experimentation had to be done.

But first, out of paranoia more than anything, he ripped out the page with Harrison Jones’s name and number, putting through a paper shredder. Then he opened to a blank page and pulled out a pen. He had thought that coming up with a name to write down would be hard, but a face popped into his mind immediately, a smug bearded one.

**Blake Fitzwilliam, 3:45**

The American man was a complete ass, and he was also up for the same promotion Vernon was. With Jones dead there was no way Vernon would get it.

For the next ten minutes Vernon waited, counting down every minute. He played with all of his office equipment; he munched on a spring roll he had left over from lunch, until it was only a minute away.

All of a sudden, the desire to be there when it happened struck Vernon. He had to be there, see it with his own eyes. Only then would he know. With speed he hadn’t known he possessed, Vernon tumbled out of his office and into the hallway, ignoring Renee’s shout of surprise.

Vernon took off, knowing he had only seconds. He arrived at the door of Fitzwilliam, arriving at the same time as Theodore Rumsman, an exceptionally cheery short man. Who also happened to be Vernon’s boss.

“’Lo, Vernon. What’re you doing here?” He said jovially. Vernon struggled to keep in his haste in front of his boss. “Oh, you know, just checking up on a co-worker.” Vernon said breezily. He ignored his boss’s appraising look and opened the door, revealing Fitzwilliam working at his desk.

The man looked up and plastered a fake smile on. “Why hello, Vernon. Hello, Mr. Rumsman. Why have you two come by?”

Vernon’s heart dropped out of his chest and settled into his stomach, stepping silently out of the way to allow Rumsman in. How foolish he had been.

“Fitzwilliam, we have seen your work ethic and superior selling skills, so we have decided to award you- are you alright?” Vernon’s eyes widened and he looked in to see Blake with an odd expression on his face. Then the man slumped over at his desk, dead.

Vernon’s eyes sought the now dead man’s clock. 3:30 on the money. Rumsman rushed over to Fitzwilliam’s side, taking his pulse. “My lord…he must’ve had a heart attack. He’s dead.”

Rumsman was clearly in shock, and Vernon leapt at the opportunity. He guided his boss away from the body and called Fitzwilliam’s family. All the while, a dark glint glittered in Vernon’s eye.

He had found his way up in the world.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

At the end of the month, a larger than average paycheck was deposited into Vernon Dursley’s bank account. Of course, a large hunk of that money was soon used up on an advanced gaming system for Dudley, and Petunia received a pearl necklace and new earrings. 

Petunia had noticed the oddest changes in Vernon’s behavior. The large man was cheery to the point of being manic, whistling happily and actually playing with his son outside. When she asked him about his sudden change, he simply told her that he was happy his work was being recognized.

However, he also became different in a bad way. He was quieter at home, and didn’t watch TV or movies with the family anymore. He took over Dudley’s second bedroom and turned it into an office, locking himself up in there for long hours. But she couldn’t deny the fruits of his labor. Within two months, Vernon had gotten promoted twice.

Even the boy was getting along well. When Vernon entered the room he stiffened, his eyes darting around the room as if watching something. She assumed that he was finally instilled with the respectful fear that they had been going for all this time.

But despite all the good news lately, Petunia was worried about her husband. There had been many deaths in the paper lately, with many having worked at Grunnings. Some had died from heart attacks, but then they began dying in increasingly odd ways. Death by falling piano. Death by rabid dog attack. Death by sudden total organ failure of formerly healthy people.

Petunia began to worry that Grunnings was cursed.

She didn’t want to bring it up to Vernon. She hated magic with a passion for taking her sister away from her, but Vernon had a fear of magic. She never knew how it had developed, but he never allowed even the mention of magic. Still, she knew that curses existed. She had to talk to him.

So, one night, she decided to bring it up. After sending Dudley off to bed and the boy to his cupboard, she approached the closed door to Vernon’s office. She took a shallow breath and knocked softly. She wasn’t aware that her knuckles made so little sound that no one could have heard it from the other side, so she assumed that the silence was consent.

The door glided open silently on oiled hinges. Vernon’s study was dark, with the only light being the one on Vernon’s desk. His enormous back was facing away from her, and he was scribbling something down, muttering to himself.

“Honey? Can we talk?”

Vernon practically jumped out of his chair, slamming the cover on whatever book he had been annotating, his pen hastily shoved into his pocket. “What are you doing here? I told you not to disturb me.” Vernon practically growled.

For the first time in her life, Petunia took a step back in fear of her husband. “I-I just wanted to talk to you.” Her voice shook a little bit, much to her shame. “Why couldn’t this have been discussed at the dinner table?” His voice took on a steely calm that almost intimidated her more than rage.

“Because I’m scared for you, Vernon!” Petunia’s voice shook with emotion, not fear for herself this time, but fear for the one she loved. Vernon froze, and Petunia continued. “People in Grunnings keep dying, people high up, and with the way you’re advancing it might be you next! I know you don’t like those…people, but they’re real, and they might have put a curse on your business. I don’t want to lose you!”

Petunia couldn’t read the look in Vernon’s eyes. The shadows of the room hid her husband’s normally expressive eyes, and both stood in silence.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been worrying you, sweetie.” Vernon came closer to her, and she relaxed when she saw the compassion in his eyes. He engulfed her in a hug and she noted with some surprise that he seemed to have lost some weight. “It’s just been a rash of bad luck at the company. I’m sure it has nothing to do with magic. I’ll be fine.”

Petunia was slightly amazed that he managed to say the dreaded word so calmly, and she melted into his arms. He placed a kiss on her lips, and she returned it in full. She began undoing his tie from around his neck, and he pushed her out of the office, closing the door behind him, and brought her into their bedroom.

After that night, Petunia forgot about her husband’s odd behavior, and didn’t enquire to what he had been writing down in that notebook.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

**“Smooth moves, Vernon.”**

He grunted, and continued scribbling down names. With the end of a pen stroke, David Benely would die on Sunday, shot to death by a mugger. That blighter had been an important manager of Steward’s Mechanics, who was posed to overtake Grunnings in the stock market.

**“For a few moments I thought you were going to tell her about the Death Note. Don’t you humans share everything with your significant others?”**

“There are some secrets that you shouldn’t burden your family with. This is one of them. It’s bad enough that the boy can see you.” Vernon turned his chair around to face the hooded figure that sat in the middle of the floor.

“Which reminds me… According to what you said, he has ownership of the Notebook, right?” The figure’s head, obscured as it was, still dropped and rose in a nod.

**“Of course. The first human to touch the Death Note becomes the owner of it. You can still use it, but if he talks to me and decides that he doesn’t want to see me anymore, giving up ownership, you will lose all memories of the Death Note unless you’re holding it. If you’re holding it, then ownership will transfer to you. But if you’re not holding it then you’ll lose all your memories of the Death Note, reverting to your old self, who would probably just set it on fire.”**

The figure cackled, and his cloak rippled with the motion. Vernon scowled with displeasure. He knew that his self of 2 months prior had planned on destroying it, until he saw the power it gave him. He was in agreement with the spirit; he would have likely destroyed it without touching it if he hadn’t discovered its powers.

He could try and engineer a situation where he forced the boy to give up ownership of the Notebook while he, Vernon, was holding it. But he couldn’t order Spirit around, he had a mind of his own and his own Death Note, and Vernon’s relationship with the boy was tedious at best, even worse since he could see Spirit following him around. Not nearly enough to force ether of them to talk to the other in a controlled way.

Then an idea came to him, and a grin sprouted under his moustache.

“What if I kill him?”

Vernon couldn’t make out Spirit’s body under the cloak, but the entity seemed to still. **“What?”**

“The boy. I’ve wanted to see if the Note would work on a freak anyway. And logically, the Death Note can’t belong to a dead man.” The idea seemed better and better in his mind. The boy was not shaping up like they’d been trying to get him to, so he’d be better off dead than alive. Especially if it benefited Vernon.

**“You can’t do that.”** For the first time, Spirit’s voice was sharp instead of jovial. Vernon frowned. “That won’t work? Damn, I thought I was onto something…”

**“No. I mean I won’t let you kill him.”** Spirit was suddenly towering over Vernon, and he caught sight of a terrifying visage under the creature’s hood. “What? Why? What’s so important about the boy?”

**“Nothing you need to know. I’ll let you use the Death Note, but you may not kill Harry Potter with it. He is off limits.”** Spirit growled.

Vernon shook in fear, and he had to fight hard to keep his bowels secure. “Alright, alright, I won’t kill the boy!” Spirit stood silently over Vernon, and he feared that the cloaked man didn’t believe him.

**“…Fine. You’re safe. I will not kill you.”** Vernon relaxed slightly, but then almost screamed when enormous bestial wings, covered with black feathers, burst from Spirit’s back. He flapped them once, almost knocking everything in the office over, and then flew up and through the roof of the house, leaving no trace of his existence.

Vernon waited for a moment, and then leaned out the window. He didn’t see a flying black cloak anywhere. He pulled his head back in and positioned his pen over the paper of the Death Note. “Suck on this you piece of shit. Even a god of death can’t be everywhere at once.”

**Harry Potte-**

The pen skidded over the paper, ruining the R that Vernon had been writing. He looked at his shaking hand in confusion. He never had problems writing names before. Was this nerves? Or…

A lightning bolt seemed to go through his body, and Vernon’s spine arched up, his eyes bulging in pain. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a strangled gurgle. The pen fell, and his hand rested limply on the table.

He would never know that his own name had been written in another Death Note. He died trying to kill his nephew. He died without honor, and the only people who would miss him were his son, wife, and sister.

Spirit reentered the room through the roof and ghosted over to the dead man’s body, cloak curling like smoke around him. He then laid long dark fingers over Vernon’s eyelids. When he took them away, Vernon’s eyes were closed. Still, he didn’t look peaceful. He looked like a man who died in agonizing pain.

Just as he should have.

Spirit stood over his body, looking at the Death Note on the desk. He looked the very picture of the Grim Reaper, come to claim Vernon’s soul. But he had no scythe. Just a notebook.

Spirit closed the Death Note, and contemplated what to do with it. In the end, he picked it up, and drifted down through the floor. He moved through the woodwork of the house, until he emerged in a small cramped space.

Spirit looked down at the sleeping boy that was just barely covered by a thin blanket. The boy shivered, as if he could sense the malevolent being in his sleep. Spirit leaned down and pulled out Vernon’s Death Note, then slipped the notebook into the sheets, beside the boy.

**“You better be grateful, Harry. I just saved your life.”**

**\-----------------------------------------------------------**

 

The next day Harry woke up, oddly refreshed. He didn’t sleep well very often, but when he did, he knew it was going to be a good day.

Harry’s internal clock told him it was around five in the morning, 30 minutes before Auntie usually asked him to do chores. He took the time to let out a rare content smile, and stretch. He could barely do such a thing in the cramped space, which was why he immediately noticed something out of the ordinary. When every inch of free space mattered you tend to notice when that’s infringed on.

Harry quickly found the item taking up space and pulled it out. It was a black hardcover notebook, the same one that he had found two months ago. He had been devastated when Uncle Vernon had taken it away from him after he had found it. Auntie had told him he hadn’t earned the right to have a notebook, even though Dudley had a new one every week.

But how did it find its way back to him? He had been told to forget about the notebook, that things didn’t just fall from the sky, so Harry had assumed Uncle Vernon had destroyed it. His Uncle didn’t approve of magic.

Harry dug around under his mattress and pulled out the stub of a pencil. He had many that he collected, but this was his longest. He figured if he had free time then he might as well draw in his new notebook. Dudley did that all the time in class and seemed to enjoy it.

Harry flipped open the notebook to the first page, and was surprised to find writing on it. He squinted at the words, trying to make them out. His vision was blurry and not too good, so it took him a while to make out words. But he did manage to make out the bold letterings.

**DEATH NOTE**

Death Note? Like a notebook of death? Did the person who formerly owned this notebook write some sort of story in here?

Eagerly turning the next page, Harry found some sort of list.

“Rule one…” Harry read out loud slowly. “The human whose name is written in this note…will die.”

A chill went through Harry. Death was sort of a heavy subject for a seven year old. But still, it peaked his interest, in a morbid kind of way. There were only five rules and Harry read them as quickly as he could.

**Rule 2:** **The Notebook will not take effect unless I have the person's face in their mind when writing their name. People sharing the same name might not be affected.**

**Rule 3: If the cause and time of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.**

**Rule 4: If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.**

**Rule 5: After writing the cause of death, details of the death must be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds. Otherwise, the subject will die of a heart attack**

Harry could have sworn he had read this hand writing before. He thought on it, but still it didn’t come to him. He turned the page and saw it filled with names and times. Harry read through all the names, and they seemed vaguely familiar. Didn’t Uncle Vernon complain about some of these people a few months ago? Didn’t Auntie say that a few died just a few weeks ago?

It suddenly struck Harry where he had seen this handwriting before. It was Uncle Vernon’s handwriting. Uncle Vernon had complained about some of these people, he had written their names in the Death Note, and they were dead now.

Uncle Vernon had killed these men.

Harry continued reading the names with a sort of detached shock. There were quite a few, with differing circumstances. Vernon had experimented quite a bit to figure out the Death Note’s rules. Then Harry got to the last page.

**Harry Potte-**

Harry’s hands shook. The final letter was messily splattered, not even recognizable as a letter to those who didn’t know what it was supposed to be. Maybe Vernon hadn’t completed it on purpose, maybe somebody stopped Vernon from doing it, but Harry had been a second away from death, at his Uncle’s whim.

But it was Harry’s now. How it got there Harry didn’t know, but now it was his, and he was not going to give it back up. He was going to keep himself safe, by never letting this out of his site.

But what would happen when Vernon realized that the Death Note was missing? What would he do to Harry if he realized that he had it?

There was only one thing to do. Only one way to keep himself safe, and keep others safe from his uncle.

Harry took his pencil stub in his fingers and wrote shakily on the paper, right next to his own name.

**Harry Potte- VerNon DurSleY**

Harry’s heart hammered in his throat. It didn’t matter whether or not this was the right thing to do, it was already done. But Harry felt like he was going to be sick. In a split second decision he ripped out the page with his and his uncle’s names on it, wadded it up, and put it in his mouth. With barely a chew he got it down his throat, and the evidence was gone.

And when his Aunt Petunia found Vernon’s body later that morning and screamed, Harry knew that, for the first time in his short life, he had killed someone.

Or so he thought.

 

**A/N:**

**Hello, this is An_Error_has_occurred, and this is my first story. Well, technically it's thephantomprince's story, I just decided to made it accessible to you all!**

**Now, as a preemptive move, I will tell you that I know Spirit is a really shitty and cliché name for a Shinigami. I will also tell you that Spirit is not his real name. Spirit is just what Vernon called him, because Spirit didn’t feel like telling Vernon his name. So since Vernon isn’t a very creative guy, he just called the spirit-like thing Spirit. I may or may not keep that name.**

**So yeah, Ryuk and Light probably won’t show up. If I continue with this fic and want to expand it past the end of the series, then I might send Harry to Japan and fuck up the Death Note story. That is...if Harry lives.**

**Also important: Harry will not be a carbon copy of Light. The only other Death Note crossover I’ve read is Jinchuriiki’s Note, where Naruto is basically Light but without the god complex, but Harry won’t be like that (hopefully).**

**I am open to questions about the plot, and any suggestions you might have that don’t involve killing myself.**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter and the Death Note

Chapter Two: Awakening

Dudley Dursley liked to think that he had the ideal life. He had a wonderful mother who cooked him lots of yummy food, and he had the best father in the world, who always worked to keep the family happy.

He even had a cousin to play with all the time; he would chase the boy around the neighborhood all day playing Harry Hunting. It was originally Cowboys and Bandits, but the fun of playing cowboys had turned to the thrill of the chase. And Harry really liked to run.

Yes, Dudley was content with his lot in life and knew himself to be the happiest boy in the world.

That was until that morning.

As was the case every morning for the past couple weeks, Dudley went to his Dad's office to bring him down for breakfast. He knocked on the door and waited for his Dad's jovial voice to call him in. He waited.

And waited.

Still waiting.

Getting a little bored now.

"Dad! Time for breakfast!" Dudley yelled, now knocking incessantly on the door, hoping his dad didn't fall asleep at his desk again and was snoring too loud to hear the knocking. Finally, he just pushed the door open, disregarding his mother's etiquette lessons in favor of immediate results.

His father was sitting in his office chair, sprawled out in a position that looked very uncomfortable. Dudley knocked on the door pointedly, while clearing his throat, imitating his mother. Still he got no response and Dudley finally got impatient enough to walk up to his father and shake him.

Dudley's arm got tired after a few seconds of shaking his father, and his Dad didn't wake up yet. "Dad?"

Vernon Dursley's eyes did not open to his son's pleas. At his son's vigorous shaking, his body toppled to the ground, hitting the floor with a hard thud. "Dad, this isn't funny anymore. G-get up."

Dudley rushed to his father's side and shook his father even harder, and his eyes began to prickle uncomfortably. "Dad? Daddy? Please get up! Daddy!"

Tears were running freely down Dudley's face now, and he gave up shaking in favor of burying his face into Dad's shirt to hide his tears. He had heard about this before, but it couldn't happen to him. Dad was the best man in the entire world, he couldn't be…dead.

Dudley heard his mother run up the stairs and gasp when she came in the door. With his mother there the situation suddenly became so much more real, and Dudley began openly bawling. Petunia tried to pull him away, but Dudley fought her off with all the strength of his small but rotund frame.

"C-come on, Dudders, we have to leave now, we have to leave." Petunia's voice wavered with emotion, the same emotion that was pouring out of Dudley's eyes. "Come on, Dudders, stop crying, be a big boy."

"I don't want to be a big boy, I want my Daddy! He can't be dead, he can't be!" A mucus bubble grew then popped on Dudley's face and he backed off of his father, smearing it off his face with his hands, doing his best to not get his tears and snot on his father. That was the opportunity that his mom needed to drag him away, out the door and downstairs, away from the body.

Dudley didn't see the cupboard open slightly, or see his cousins green eyes follow them. All he knew was that he wanted his father. He wanted his dad back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry was left in his cupboard all day that day. As he sat in his cupboard he could hear the police come into his house and come upstairs. While they were there Harry hid the Death Note underneath his mattress and his heart beat in his chest far faster than he thought it should.

Harry knew it was irrational. Even if they found the Death Note, the page used to kill Uncle Vernon was gone; it was in his stomach being digested. Even so, his entire body shook in fear, and emotions coursed through him that he didn't know how to deal with.

He could hear his cousin and his aunt crying outside. They had never cried before. According to Dudley, crying was unmanly, because Vernon never cried, and according to Aunt Petunia, she never cried because it wasn't ladylike. Those views didn't stop them from doing it now.

Harry didn't know how to feel. He thought he hated Vernon, even before he found out he'd been killing innocent people. But now… the man was dead. He was gone, forever. And Harry had been the one to kill him.

But Harry didn't cry. For the life of him, for all the emotions surging through him, none of them came out as tears. None of them showed on his face. He kept it all inside. He kept the storm raging inside.

The hours passed and Harry could hear the cops talking to what remained of his family. He could hear choking sobs, soothing voices, and a lot of words that Harry couldn't make out. Harry had stopped shaking a few hours ago, and his mind turned to how he had received no food yet that day.

Harry opened the grate of the cupboard and tried to peer out to see if the coast was clear. Seeing no people around, Harry opened his cupboard door and snuck outside.

Harry skirted around the corner, slipping into the kitchen while the living room was occupied. He opened the refrigerator and shoved several pieces of cut fruit directly into his gaping gullet. The juices began running down his face and Harry wiped them on his shirt and grabbed several carrots to put away into the cupboard.

Just when he closed the door, however, he caught something out of his eye. He turned and saw a tall man that he definitely did not recognize. It must be one of the cops that Auntie called in. And Harry felt his heart pick up again.

Did he close the cupboard door? He was sure he did. Wait, he shouldn't be worrying about the Death Note right now, he had been caught stealing food! He had been counting on everyone being distracted by the tragedy to allow him to get some food. He wasn't exactly sure if stealing from his own family was a crime.

"Hello there, son. Petunia mentioned she had a nephew. Where have you been hiding?" The cop used the same voice one might use on a skittish animal. Harry stood still and tried to think of a response. His social skills did not extend to talking to cops, so he remained silent.

Luckily, the cop took this not as a sign of nervousness, but as a sign of a deep sadness. The man knelt, and wrapped his arms around the boy. Harry froze, and his back stiffened. He had never been hugged before.

"I know it's hard, kid. It's always tough losing someone for the first time. But you've got to be strong, for him, for your aunt, and for your cousin too." The cop said soothingly. Harry felt a break in his emotional barrier. He was a murderer, a killer. Yet this man, this complete stranger was talking to him kindly, he cared about Harry's feelings.

Harry's face scrunched up and tears began to blur his already bad vision. The man brought him closer and Harry buried his face into the man's shoulder. Someone cared about him. Maybe… maybe other people could care about him too. Even if he was a killer.

The man rubbed soothing circles on the boy's back as he cried. Then he led Harry into the living room with his relatives, where he was put in between Petunia and Dudley. And in that moment, as the all sat there, they were a family.

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Things had changed in the past couple of weeks at Number 4 Privet Drive. That might have something to do with the darkening influence that having the power to kill anyone, anytime, had on one of the house's residents. But it also had to do with the significant impact of Vernon's death.

According to the school psychologist, the death had profound impact on both Dudley and Harry.

Dudley had stopped eating entirely for a period of days, and even when he had regained his appetite he was never as ravenous, resulting in some much needed weight loss. The boy had cherished his father in a way not often seen in modern culture, so the therapist coached Petunia to allow the boy closer access to his memory. As such, Vernon's office was cleared out, and Dudley turned it into his bedroom. Every night he went to sleep there he felt haunted by his father's ghost a little less. He was quiet, and strove to be hard working as he had seen his father to be.

The death had an opposite effect on Harry. While he had not turned around and become a cheery young man, he had come out of his shell a lot more. He got more comfortable talking, and his classmates found a willing listener to prattle on about their interests, which they were happy to educate him on if it meant that they had someone to talk to.

Petunia had to take a full time job to pick up the financial vacuum left behind after Vernon's death. At the school psychologist's request, she assigned the household chores to both Harry and Dudley, something to take their minds off the death and help them bond in the absence of a father figure.

Petunia did not see any psychologist, so she was never given advice or diagnoses, but it was clear what also happened the day after Vernon died. When Harry sat there, cried and mourned his uncle with her, he had become a real member of the family. Harry had been moved into Dudley's vacated old room, and he was treated as her son from that day forward.

One of the major upsides of that was that Petunia noticed that Harry needed glasses. At first she thought that her old reading glasses might work, but they were clearly not good enough, so she got him a handsome pair of square glasses to allow him to see perfectly. With this, Harry's school work took on a noticeable uptick.

For the first time in Harry's life, he had a loving, if somewhat quiet and depressed, family. For the first time, he was content.

Harry had sworn to himself that he wouldn't use the Death Note. He shoved down all those feelings that came up whenever he thought about Vernon's death, but he was still uncomfortable with killing people. Vernon had to die for others to live, that's the way Harry chose to look at it.

Unfortunately, no human mind can completely disassociate doing something evil with the positive outcomes of doing something evil. It's a concept called cognitive dissonance: when two opposing principles meet inside someone's head, then they have to be resolved somehow. That's why people raised in good, nurturing environments can still do awful things once and then do it again and again. Because they rationalize it in their minds, because they minimalize the bad effects of what they do, make them good.

Such a thing could happen to fully mature adults with black and white views of the world, so to Harry Potter the Death Note was not inherently evil; it was just how one used it. Using it, Harry had made life better for himself. That was only when he had used it once. Imagine the possibilities…

Harry shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts out of his mind. He found his mind wandering to the Death Note more and more these days, and he itched to write in it. He didn't even have a target in mind; he just felt the compelling urge to use it. The Harry of a few weeks ago might have been tempted to use it on Dudley or Petunia, but they were getting along so much better. And Harry wasn't an advanced psychologist, so he couldn't analyze why he wanted to use it so much.

"Mr. Potter!"

He had done it again, drifted off thinking about the Death Note, and now Harry's teacher was glaring at him, like he so often did.

"Yes, Mr. Jeffries?" Harry tried to keep a tic of nervousness out of his voice at his teacher's open hostility towards him.

"If you are not going to pay attention in my class, then you might as well have not graduated out of the first grade." Jeffries sneered. He was uncomfortably close to Harry, leaning down so that they were nearly nose to nose. A sweat broke out on Harry's temple, and Jeffries smirked, like he was glad to have instilled fear in a seven year old.

The man stood back up and turned around to bark at another student, who did the right thing and stayed silent, just absorbing Jeffries's hate, a little red-headed girl who was younger than the rest of the class, Carry Underwood. Harry saw a tear leak out of her eye and Jeffries grinned again, directing her gaze to her paper and going off to yell at someone else.

Harry saw that tear, and remembered that the only time he and his family cried were in times of severe emotional upheaval. Fury suddenly blossomed inside him, so strong it shook him. He didn't know why Jeffries was acting like such a jerk, and he was fine with absorbing some of that, but he was not okay with him taking it out on a girl even littler than Harry himself.

It boiled inside of Harry that whole day, and it became fiercer whenever Harry saw the man taking out his petty vendetta out on children the rest of the day. So when he got home, he didn't do his chores with Dudley like he usually did, but he went straight up to his room. Harry closed the door and locked it with a sort of grim finality.

Harry went over to his bed and pulled out a thick dictionary, so large that it was almost impossible to notice a small opening in between the pages. Harry dug his fingers into that opening, and pulled out the thin hardcover that was his Death Note.

" **Oh, are you finally going to use it? Or are you just going to stare at it again, wondering about the morality of using it?"** Harry flinched. He still hadn't gotten used to the dark cloaked man that had taken to following him around. He had explained that he was linked to the Death Note, but no more than that, not even a name. Or what he was.

"There's a man out there. A bad man. He's hurting people. And I can stop him." Harry said tersely.

" **Going after old man Jeffries? Can't say I blame you, he's a real jerk."** Harry turned to the man in shock and the hooded man cackled, his shoulders rising and falling with the intensity of the motion.

" **Like I told you, I go where the Notebook does. Just because you don't see me at your school doesn't mean that I'm not there."**

He cackled again, and went back to playing with some of Dudley's old toys, making 'vroom-vroom' sounds as he pushed the red truck along. Harry ignored the thing that managed to be so intimidating yet be so immature.

Harry opened the Death Note to a blank page and pulled out his pencil, the same one he had used to kill Vernon. He vowed it would never be used to write so many names that it dwindled to a stub. But now he needed to use it again.

There was only one problem. He didn't know Mr. Jeffries first name.

"What is it? Does it begin with a 'D'? Yeah, I think it begins with a 'D'…Daniel? David? Donald?" Harry couldn't seem to put his finger on it. It came to him all of a sudden, he was sure that he had heard his teacher say it before.

Harry pressed the pencil to the paper and wrote the name.

**Darcy Jeffries, 12:30 PM**

Harry knew he could just get Jeffries to die of a heart attack within 40 seconds, but that wasn't enough. If Jeffries died after school, then there was no way the administration would tell Harry and his class about it, so Harry wouldn't know if he had gotten the name right.

It was more than that though. Harry wrote down 12:30, when all the kids would be outside playing, and Jeffries would be eating alone in the classroom. Jeffries would die and all the kids would come in, they would see the body of the man that had been verbally abusing them.

Harry closed the Notebook with a snap, and then re-hid it in the book under his bed. It was done. Carry wouldn't cry anymore.

Harry went downstairs to help Dudley with the chores.

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Things started off badly the next day.

It was raining, very heavily. When Harry got up he hoped that the rain would dry up with how intensely it was coming down, but it continued well into the day. The weather seemed to have an effect on the school too; Jeffries was in a fouler mood than normal and the students did worse on everything he demanded of them.

Harry kept waiting for the rain to let up; he almost snapped his pencil with the force of his grip. But the rain kept falling. When 12: 15 rolled around Harry was pleading internally for Jeffries to release them to go to the gymnasium. But by that time Jeffries was well and truly pissed.

"You are not going to get recess; none of you have earned it. You are going to sit here and read, in complete silence. You start now." Jeffries sat down at his desk and glowered at the students.

Harry pulled out a book, he didn't even know what book, and he was just waiting. He had wanted for his classmates to find the body, to get some satisfaction from that, but he didn't want them to see him die. Even Harry hadn't watched as a man died. Yet.

It was 12:20. Everyone was still waiting

Harry's heart was beating faster than was probably healthy, and he couldn't focus on the words in front of him. He was about to see a man die, killed by the Death Note. No, not by the Death Note.

By him. Then an idea struck him.

Harry briefly allowed his eyes to roam the room, and he caught sight of the hooded man, who was hanging upside down from the ceiling, apparently sleeping. But when Harry saw him, those sunken eyes stared back at him, and the creature fell from the ceiling silently.

" **What up? You normally can't see me, you're always studying like a little nerd."** He cackled, and Harry almost panicked, but remembered no one else could hear the man.

"I need to stop the Death Note. At least for a little while." Harry turned his eyes on his book, and tried to keep his voice low enough so only the hooded man could hear him. The man stopped laughing and stilled. Harry risked a glance up at the now silent man and saw that he had a red light glowing from the depths of his sunken eyes.

" **It doesn't work like that."** He said suddenly. Harry's heart picked up again, and he started mentally preparing himself for witnessing Jeffries's death.

" **At least, not without a deal being made."** This time, Harry abandoned all pretenses of subtlety and leaned forward, trying to see in the spirit's face if it was being serious. "A deal?"

" **Yes. There is a deal among us Shinigami and humans with a Death Note. You see, Shinigami can see a human's name just by looking at a human's face. It makes it a snap to kill someone. And, for a price, we can give this ability to a human."**

Harry's temper was getting frayed. He only had five minutes. "So? I don't need weirdo eyes." He hissed.

The Shinigami shook a long finger back and forth, tssk-ing chidingly.

" **You see, Shinigami that make this deal are considered to be elite. After all, no one wants to pay the price. But if you accept, then I'll give you the Eyes. And your teacher won't die…at least until you finally wish for him to die."**

Yes! This was the solution. Plus, the Eyes might be useful. Just in time, too, it was 12:29. In his excitement, Harry didn't even think to ask what the price was. "I accept. I accept your deal."

The Shinigami grinned, a morbid sight with his lack of teeth. A chill went through Harry, and then the spirit covered Harry's entire head within his hand.

When the hand was removed, Harry's world was different. He could see the names of everyone around him, all tinged with red and floating above their heads, along with a series of numbers. But it was oddly blurry. Harry took off his glasses to clean them, and instead found he could see clearly with them. This was amazing!

Harry looked up at the Shinigami, hoping to see whatever it was he would do to counteract the Death Note's magic. Who knew, maybe the Death Note was just like a hit order, only Shinigami carried it out.

But the Shinigami stood stock still, still grinning maniacally down at the boy. He must have seen the confusion in Harry's eyes, for he gestured to the front of the classroom. Harry looked at his grumpy teacher, and all the air went out of Harry's lungs.

Darcy Jeffries Jr.

Harry swiveled his head around. It was 12:31.

Harry almost panicked for a moment. What if the Death Note killed a different Darcy Jeffries? That wasn't just killing someone, that was murder. But then the rules of the Death Note came to him. He had been picturing his teacher, and that means no one would die at all!

Harry looked up accusingly at the Shinigami, but his eyes were vacant, his creepy smile still present. It was almost like he was waiting for something. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry actually started reading his book, ignoring the enormous hooded man before him.

When he got home he would just kill Jeffries in the middle of the night, that had been way too heart pounding, and it might just be better to try to avoid public deaths in the future. Not that he would get names wrong now, not with the Eyes.

Harry grinned, and his normally vibrant green eyes briefly became red, glowing with a malevolent red light. But then they disappeared and Harry Potter looked normal again.

Harry read for the rest of the period, blissful and ignorant. He didn't know that he had signed away half of his life to the devil. Or a devil, anyway.

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Darcy Jr. groaned as he fell onto his bed, his head pounding from a furious headache. He flung his briefcase hard against the wall, and was rewarded with some loud cursing from across the thin wall. He curled up in the fetal position on his thin mattress, and tried to push all his doubts away.

"Damn, how did it come to this?" Darcy cursed, perhaps for the sixth time today.

All his life he had wanted to be a teacher. But there had been a catch. He wanted to teach teenagers, mold young minds and instill them with morals and values. Instead he got a room of brats, only half of which were potty trained, all of which were arrogant little shits. He had always discarded the complaints that all kids these days were self-important, insolent bastards, but they totally were. Darcy feared how the world was going to end up if these kids went into politics.

And for all that, he could barely pay rent on his shitty apartment. It was a wonder that he didn't have to split rent with a homeless person. Darcy got up, to the complaint of his muscles, and poured himself a dollop of whiskey, gulping in down in one go, relishing the warm feeling it gave him.

Just then, his cell phone rang, and Darcy sneered in irritation. All he wanted was an hour to himself before he had to do papers and prepare for the parent-teacher conference, was that too much to ask?

His phone rang again, and Darcy flipped it open.

"What?" Darcy asked bluntly.

" _Yes, is this Mr. Darcy Jeffries?"_ The voice on the other end was disorted with static, but Darcy could still clearly hear the colors of nervousness in his tone.

"Yes, what is it?" Something had to be wrong. But what?

" _I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your father… he had a heart attack. He's gone."_

Darcy's glass slipped from between his suddenly numb fingers and fractured into multiple pieces on the ground.

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Harry finished his chores early, he had Dudley had had a lot of extra energy from today. Dudley from having to go without break, and Harry was filled with the nervous energy from today. The two had rushed but made sure to have everything done well, and had exchanged typical stupid kid jokes the whole while.

Harry was actually still giggling when he pulled out the Death Note and his slightly smaller pencil.

**Darcy Jeffries Jr.**

Harry didn't bother with a time. He just wanted to get what he felt was his duty over with, then go back downstairs and play video games. He closed the book with a smart snap, hid it away, and bounded downstairs, ignoring the Shinigami's sudden cackling.

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"H-how could this happen?" Darcy choked out. His brain was frozen, and his eyesight was blurred with tears.

" _It just appears to have been a random heart attack. He seemed to be in good health, then suddenly passed away this afternoon."_ The other man said mournfully.

Darcy worked to process this information. It didn't make any sense. His father had been one of the healthiest men he had ever known. Hell, he was so fit that he and his father were sometimes confused for twins!

So why?

Suddenly Darcy's breathe went out of him, and he felt like someone had punched him in the chest. He lurched forward, the phone falling and cracking on the ground as Darcy fell on his hands and knees, cutting his hands on the glass.

He couldn't breathe. All his life he could breathe, and now he couldn't. How? Why? He wasn't able to get out a cry for help. His vision dimmed, and his muscles quivered. Then, his strength gave out, and he fell.

Darcy Jeffries Jr. died in agony and confusion, just like his father had.

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Harry hummed happily to himself as he pushed the buttons on his controller, and chatting amiably. His smiles came easily, and his cousin commented he looked a lot better without glasses.

Yes, Harry was content with his lot in life and knew himself to be the happiest boy in the world.

And it was all thanks to the Death Note.

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**Please Review!**

**Hey all, it's me again. I got a pretty decent response to this story, quite a few favorites and follows, but more reviews would definitely help with the writing process.**

**Yes, Harry has the Shinigami Eyes, pretty early on too. Like I said, he's not a younger Light Yagami, but he will (hopefully) be stronger.**

**I tried to make Harry's use of the Death Note and his reaction to using it realistic. After all, he is a child, and using it significantly improved his life. So he'd look at it pretty favorably.**

**I'm trying to decide whether or not to spend more time in Harry's childhood with his adventures with the Death Note, or to move onto Hogwarts from here. Your opinion in this would be much appreciated.**

**Any notes, ideas for pairings, theories about the Shinigami, suggestions for improvement, shoot me a PM or post a review!**


	3. Discovery

Harry Potter and the Death Note

Chapter 3: Discovery

Things had changed much for Harry Potter and his family over the course of the next several years. While the changes in Dudley and Harry were quicker to manifest themselves, Petunia had changed much in the next several years as well.

The school psychologist, Penny, who had begun advising Petunia on Harry and Dudley's development, began noticing Petunia had some rather unhealthy habits of her own. As she was technically not supposed to advise anyone outside of the schoolchildren, she began seeing Petunia in a non-professional capacity, coming over several times a week for tea.

As time went on, the two became closer, and Penny began helping Petunia get rid of some of her worse habits. Petunia stopped obsessing so much over perfection, and more importantly, on her figure. She gained some much needed weight, ironically the opposite of what had Dudley needed, and stopped looking so horse-like. In fact, she began to look very much like her deceased sister.

However, when Petunia stopped obsessing over keeping the house perfect and maintaining a perfectly 'normal' image, she lost many of her friends around the neighborhood, until all her friends were from her work, and Penny. In fact, one of the reasons she lost the support of so many housewives was because of rumors that Penny and Petunia had begun seeing each other.

Although after the years, those rumors took on the semblance of truth. Though all Harry and Dudley noted was that Penny became almost a permanent fixture of the Dursley household, and that Petunia became much happier.

In a twist of fate, Petunia and Penny's salaries combined was higher than what Vernon had provided, and Harry and Dudley were much better provided for.

Everything was finally perfect in the Dursley household, for all of them.

"Harry, darling, you've got mail." Penny called, walking into the kitchen with her arms full of envelopes. Harry paused from making breakfast with Dudley and scampered over to the curly haired woman, curiosity burning. Did he even know anyone that would send him mail?

Harry took the mail and noted with some confusion that, while it was made of heavy parchment, it glowed slightly with a golden color, as if a flashlight was being shined on it. He shrugged and focused on the writing itself, written in green ink, with very peculiar handwriting. It was his name, address, and eerily enough, it even had down the room he resided in.

Frowning, he turned it over and noticed the flap was sealed shut with a dollop of actual wax, with an elaborate emblem stamped into it. A bird, a snake, a badger and a lion, all surrounding an ornate letter H. The stamp itself was practically glowing with the same light that barely illuminated the rest of the envelope.

" **So, are you just gonna stare at it, or are you gonna open it? Not every day that a mysterious letter comes for weird children."** Harry levelled a glare at the dark spirit that was maneuvering around the kitchen, stealthily stealing bacon strips, but heeded his advice anyway. He tore open the envelope and unfolded the two thick papers inside.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc, Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1_ _st_ _. We await your owl by no later than July 31_ _st_ _._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

"What've you got there, Harry?" Petunia had come down for breakfast, still fixing her hair into a bun on her head, kissing the top of Dudley and Harry's heads.

"I got a weird letter, Auntie. Some prank." Harry made a dismissive gesture and set the letter down on the table, loading his plate up with some bacon and toast. When he raised his head from his plate to ask Petunia to pass the butter, he saw she was frozen.

"Harry…" She said calmly. "What does that letter say?" At her tone the rest of the family looked up, and Penny had a strange light in her eyes. Harry hesitated at her demand. "Go on, darling, tell her." Penny coaxed.

"It says I've been accepted to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Harry got out. Dudley snorted in laughter, but lost his air of amusement when Penny and Petunia exchanged significant glances.

"No way…" Harry breathed. Could it be true?

"Keep reading." Petunia commanded. Harry groped for the other letter and brushed his hair out of his eyes to read better, now out loud.

" _UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

_by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic_

_by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory_

_by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

_by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad."_

Harry set the letter down and looked nervously at Penny and Petunia. Dudley met his eyes and looked at him questioningly. "Those don't even sound like real names." Dudley said dismissively, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Not now, Dudley." Petunia snapped. Dudley looked shocked that she would do so, and Harry doubly so. Petunia _never_ snapped at Dudley.

"Now now, Petunia, we knew this would happen someday." Penny put her hand on Petunia's shoulder comfortingly.

"Wait, so this is true?" Harry blurted out. He had known magic had existed for years; the Death Note was absolute proof of that. But Harry himself was actually magic? One that could use a wand and do magical things?

Petunia gave him a measured look, and for a moment Harry thought she was looking at someone else. Then something seemed to give inside her, and she nodded sharply. "Yes, it's real. You're a wizard, Harry."

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"Holy. Shit." Dudley gasped.

"Dudley! Watch your mouth, young man." Petunia berated. But neither Dudley nor Harry were paying attention, as they were far too busy being amazed at the surrounding Diagon Alley. Even Penny, who was usually measured and composed, was as wide-eyed with amazement.

The family had decided to go off to Diagon Alley after waiting for a few days for a professor to show up, but none did. They all agreed it would do no harm to go themselves, as Petunia knew what to do, and if a professor showed up then they would already be done.

But this place was so amazing that just staying to getting school supplies might take a while.

Before Harry and Dudley could run off into the crowd, Petunia grabbed the back of their shirts and kept them in place. "Now, both of you, I know this is exciting, but we need to get Harry's supplies. After we get those you both can look around. But for now we go off to the bank to convert some money." She ordered.

Dudley and Harry both grumbled, but complied.

Time to go shopping.

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Hagrid flew through the air, zooming around close to 200 MPH on his enchanted motorcycle, Orion. It was so infrequent that he got to take Orion out for a spin that he treasured every opportunity to take it out, especially at this speed.

But it was already getting close to the end of his trip. Hagrid tilted the bike down and came down closer to the ground, quickly coming down into the residential district of Surrey. He pushed the button to turn off the invisibility when he hit the ground, not noticing the man out getting his mail that noticed him flickering into visibility.

That man then went inside to hang himself. Sadly enough, this had nothing to do with him having seen a man use magic. He just had a sad life.

Hagrid finally slowed to a stop on the street opposite Number 4, Privet Drive. It looked rather different from when he had last seen it. Everything looked…less organized. Not that it looked worse, but it looked less like a set from a stock photo. It looked lived in.

Hagrid parked Orion and removed his goggles, brushing bugs out of his beard as he got off. He lumbered over to the house, not noticing that the lights were off and no one appeared to be home. He enthusiastically knocked on the door, grinning happily at the thought of once again seeing little Harry.

Unfortunately for the door, Hagrid's knocking caused the door to cave in. Hagrid grimaced slightly and looked around to make sure no one was around. He stepped inside and waved his pink umbrella, refitting the door pieces into the frame.

"Sorry o bout that, didn't mean fur that to happen." Hagrid mumbled apologetically. He looked around and squinted. Huh, they should have been waiting for him to take Harry to Diagon Alley. Maybe they were asleep or something.

Hagrid cast the magic detection spell around the house, getting back only a single response from upstairs. Hagrid pounded up the stairs and cast the spell again, narrowing down the room he needed to go to. Hagrid made sure not to cave in the door this time, now simply unlocking the door magically, allowing it to swing inwards slowly.

" 'Ello, Harry! I've come to take you to Diagon Alley!" Hagrid announced joyfully, stooping to come into the room. But the room was completely empty. Hagrid frowned and cast the spell again. The wave of magic washed over the room, and got back a ping, from over by the bed.

Hagrid looked closer at the bed and noticed an indentation; almost like a very large something was resting on it. Or someone…

Hagrid may not be the most intelligent of men, even among wizards, but Hagrid did have what most people would call a heart of gold. When he found no people in the house of the Boy-Who-Lived, and what appeared to be an invisible person in one of the rooms, he jumped to a pretty logical conclusion.

Though how he went about it was pretty… explosive.

Hagrid whipped his pink umbrella around to point at the bed, a Bombarda shooting out of the end. The spell impacted the bed and tore the bed apart, not hitting anything else. Hagrid moved his eyes around the room, checking for any of the inconsistencies usually present in disillusionment charms, but catching none.

Hagrid cast the detection spell once more, not getting any results. His giant brow crinkled in confusion. There had been someone here , and they had just disappeared? No one could do that. There were no signs of Apparation at all, and not even Dumbledore could Apparate silently.

Hagrid thought over the situation and flushed slightly. Maybe he hadn't cast the revealing spell properly. He did that sometimes. And perhaps family was just out for breakfast or something.

Hagrid was about to repair the bed, when his eye caught on something among the rubble. A thick fancy book that looked out of place among the more pre-adolescent features of the room. Hagrid leaned over and picked it up, leafing through it curiously. It was some sort of business textbook, really advanced stuff.

When Hagrid was about to set it back down and repair the bed, a smaller black book slid out of the pages, falling on the ground. Hagrid's curiosity peaked, and he ignored the small voice in the back of his head that told him to leave well enough alone.

Hagrid cracked open the book and found it to be a notebook, filled with names and times.

" **Ooooh, isn't this a conundrum?"** Hagrid dropped the book and turned, startled.

Like a bat, the man clung to the ceiling, his dark cloak mixing in with the room's shadows, and an insane sharp smile on his skull-like face.

" 'O are you? What are you doing 'ere?" Hagrid demanded. He pointed his umbrella at the strange creature, prepared to use lethal force to protect the home he had already invaded.

The creature cackled and fell from the ceiling, then crossed the distance between the two, lifting up the large man with a single arm. He leered up at the chocking man, dark fire dancing madly in his empty eye sockets.

" **I did not expect this to happen."** The creature mused out loud. Then he laughed again, looking up at the struggling half-giant. **"I wonder what Harry is going to do when he gets here…"**

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"Why hello, Mr. Potter." Ollivander murmured softly. His pale eyes focused on Harry in an odd way that seemed oddly familiar. He then turned his unblinking eyes to Dudley. "And the young Mr. Dursley, I was not aware you were on the Hogwarts list."

"I'm not…How did you know our names?" Dudley questioned, looking faintly uncomfortable. Harry had to agree with his cousin, it was creepy. Harry didn't exactly feel comfortable being alone with this man, as Petunia and Penny had elected to go down the street to the pet shop while he and Dudley got the wand.

Ollivander clapped his hands and smiled. "Oh, it's so good to see family coming together like this; you would not believe the division that magic wreaks on most families." As he talked he waved his wand and various tape measures began to assault Harry, measuring his arms, legs, and various orifices. He didn't answer Dudley's question.

Dudley stifled a laugh as Harry awkwardly tried to pretend that his personal space wasn't being invaded. Ollivander nodded and the tape measures all flew into a drawer, then an array of dusty boxes flew out of the depths of his shop.

Harry awkwardly picked out a wand from one of the boxes, a length of white wood, but Ollivander whipped it out of his hand, muttering something under his breath, placing it reverently back in its box and handing Harry a new one.

That process continued for almost a half hour, so long that Dudley began browsing among the wands, commenting on which ones were 'cool' or not. Ollivander was too focused to tell the boy off, too concerned with being delighted with Harry's lack of results.

Finally, just as Harry was about to lose his temper, Ollivander gained a thoughtful look. "Maybe we're looking at the wrong wood…" Ollivander muttered. He swished his wand thoughtfully and brought out a new box, one that was smaller than the rest.

Ollivander opened the box and handed Harry a wand that was a handsome brown, and perhaps only six inches long. Ollivander practically stuffed the wand into Harry's grasp. Intrigued, Harry waved the wand, and felt something pull.

A wave of white sparks flew out of Harry's wand, and a cool rush of air blew through the air. Harry closed his eyes to enjoy the breeze for a moment.

"M-Mr. Potter, if you could s-stop that please." Ollivander's voice was oddly weak and stuttering. When Harry opened his eyes, he saw the man's teeth were chattering, and had a look of near emotional torture on his face.

Harry tried to stop, but ended up pulling harder. Sparks began swirling around his wand and the breeze got stronger. Harry grit his teeth and cut off the pull in his gut. The effect was immediate. The breeze stopped, and tears of relief began streaming out of Ollivander's eyes as he took great breathfuls of air.

Harry stared at the wand in his hand with disbelief. How had he done that?

"Hey, what's going on in here?" Dudley came wandering in out of the isles of boxes, looking confused. Apparently the effects of Harry's magic hadn't reached him. "Did you find your wand?"

"Indeed he did." Ollivander seemed to have regained his composure, and stood tall, an odd look in his eye. "That was a very powerful reaction, young Potter. Completely unlike your parents, theirs were rather…fiery. Yours remind me of a different young man."

Harry's grin at his powerful reaction dimmed slightly when he heard that. He did have a family now, a great one, but… he still wanted to be like his parents. He only really knew what Petunia could tell him, and Harry didn't like pushing her.

"Willow, six and a half inches, coupled with phoenix feather. Odd combination." Ollivander moved closer to him, looking him intently in the eyes. "Why is that odd?" Harry kept the waver out of his voice at the old man's creepiness.

"Willow is a powerful wood. In fact, a famous Ollivander family motto is that those who have willow wands will go far. It is said to embody magic itself, to have strong connections with the cycles of life, especially death and rebirth. It is linked to the willpower of the user, the more powerful the will, the more powerful the magic. It cleanses the mind, and opens the way to a truer sight."

He got closer to Harry and Dudley edged closer, prepared to pull the old man off of Harry. "It is also the kind of wood your mother's wand had."

That was the most important information. All of the rest of that mumbo jumbo didn't really matter after the information about his mother. Harry looked down at the wand in his hand.

Dudley put a hand on Harry's shoulder and tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "You've got a pretty tiny wand there, Harry."

Ollivander tutted in disapproval. "My wands are not meant to be phallic substitutes, Mr. Dursley."

The two boys chuckled, and Ollivander held out an expectant hand. With a twinge of disappointment, Harry tried to hand the short wand back to the man, but he shook his hand. "No, Mr. Potter, that wand is yours. However, I require payment. Seven Galleons, if you please. Or 119 Sickles, or 3,451 Knuts. Whichever is easier."

Harry nodded, and fished for his bag of wizarding money. He pulled it out and counted out 3 Galleons, all he had. He flushed slightly, looking over at Dudley, who shrugged. "Uh, this is all I have on me." Harry muttered.

Ollivander gave him a look of disappointment. "I suppose you will have to go fetch your guardians then. I cannot allow a Hogwarts student to leave without a wand, so Mr. Dursley will have to go get them." He decided.

Harry and Dudley shared a look. Even if he did provide Harry with a wand, the man was still super creepy, and neither was comfortable with leaving Harry alone with him. Stranger Danger and all that. For the first time Harry wished he had brought the Death Note with him.

"I'll go get them then." Dudley said. "Stay put, Harry."

Dudley darted out the door, and disappeared into the Alley.

A hand clamped down on Harry shoulder, and he screamed in panic. "STANGER DANGER! STRANGER DA-!"

Suddenly no noise could come out of Harry's mouth, and he looked up to see Ollivander's wand pointed at him, as well as an exasperated look on the old man's face.

"Please do shut up, Mr. Potter. I'm not going to molest you. I do have a wife after all." Ollivander sighed. "But we do need to talk."

Harry glared at the man and tried to bring his magic forth, tried to force the pull in his stomach. No result. He couldn't do it on command.

"Oh stop that, I'm here to help. You have them to don't you? You have the Eyes." Harry froze, and looked at Ollivander in disbelief. A look of concentration appeared on his face, and the man's pale eyes turned a bright, bloody red. They faded, and the man chuckled. "Yes, you must learn to control that, lest you scare your classmates. Yours activated when you were using your wand."

Rather than comfort him, this scared Harry. Somebody else out there had the Shinigami Eyes? That meant… the old man had a Death Note too.

"Don't be scared, Mr. Potter. While it is rare, those who have the Eyes of Truer Sight are not uncommon. In fact, many famous men and women have possessed them. However…you are the first person whose life span I can't see with mine. Curious…"

Wait a minute… Truer Sight?

Ollivander began pacing, and his voice took on a lecturing tone.

"I assume you do not know much about your power, so I shall take the responsibility of informing you. Ahem…We don't know why or how some magicals obtain the Eyes of Truer Sight, but they gain it at birth, and it is a sign of great things to come. After all, we are the few people who are able to see magic in its truest form. A strange side-effect of this is the ability to see a person's name, and lifespan."

Ollivander gave Harry a very serious look. "It is a great gift and burden, to see how long a person has to live. Some have gone mad with that very power. In fact…" The man brushed Harry's hair to the side, revealing his scar, a bolt of lightning on his forehead.

"The best example of someone who could not handle the burden is the very man that killed your parents."

A cold overtook Harry. His parents… had been killed? Vernon had always said they died in a car crash, and Petunia didn't like to talk about the accident that killed her sister. Harry moved his mouth, trying to speak, and Ollivander flicked his wand at the boy.

"They were killed? How? And by who?" Harry demanded. Ollivander raised a single wispy eyebrow.

"You didn't know?" The old man was very surprised. "Your guardians never told you?"

"Never. I was told they died in a car crash."

"Well then, never expected that, now did he…" Ollivander muttered. He cleared his throat. "Your parents were essential members of a rebellion against a very dark, very powerful wizard. They defied him so many times that he made it a priority to kill them, so they went into hiding with you, to protect you. Unfortunately, they were betrayed by a friend, and that dark wizard tracked them down, and killed them."

"Luckily for you, and for all wizard kind, something peculiar happened. He tried to kill you, and failed. His own magic was reflected back at him, destroying him, saving all of us. No one knows why, or how, and that's why you are beloved. You are the only one who has survived the infamous Killing Cure. You are the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry felt an unpleasant chill go through him. Those words felt significant, and powerful. He wasn't just Harry, he was someone. Someone his own parents had died to protect. Someone who had defied death.

"Who was it? Who killed my parents?" Ollivander stared at him with an odd look on his face, not speaking for quite a few moments.

"The world knows him today as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, for his very name strikes fear into our hearts, and reminds us of the darkness of the world. But those who are strong enough… call him Voldemort."

Voldemort. The name sounded exactly as ridiculous as wizards would come up with, but was malevolent all the same. It was the name of a man who killed and destroyed, who tore flesh from bones and laughed among the corpses of innocents.

Harry didn't want to use the name. He didn't feel strong enough, he was just Harry.

"You're wrong."

Harry looked up into the eyes of Ollivander, questioning. The old man chuckled. "I could see it on your face. Survivor's guilt. Doubt. It's all very clear when you look for it." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry didn't freak out this time.

"Every person who doubts themselves is greater than they believe. You will do great things, even if you don't mean too. Because you are Harry Potter; not just the Boy-Who-Lived. It is up to you to decide in what way you will be great. For even He-Who-Must-Be-Named was great, but he was not good. It is how you will decide to use your power that makes you who you are."

Harry looked at the man and opened his mouth, wanting to say something, tell him about the Death Note maybe, but just then the door flew open, and Dudley flew inside. "Hey Harry, I got the money. Thank you Mr. Olliander, but we have to go."

Harry's cousin grabbed his hand and dragged him out after putting down several gold coins, not giving Harry the chance to talk to the man. Before he was out the door, Harry heard Ollivander say something.

"Remember, it's the intentions, Mr. Potter, that make the man."

Then he was gone.

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By the end of the day, Harry was exhausted. He had purchased everything he needed for Hogwarts, bought several prank items with Dudley, gotten an owl, gotten a wand, and most importantly, learned about his parent's deaths.

The whole day was an emotional rollercoaster he had not prepared to ride, but he was keeping it together best he could.

On the other end of the spectrum, Penny and Dudley were still ecstatic despite their tiredness, chattering excitedly in the car all the way home. One may have mistaken them for the ones to find out they had magic.

Petunia drove in silence like her nephew. Her eyes were distance, looking at something no one else did. Harry sympathized with that.

They got to the house as night fell, and they all agreed that moving most of the things into the house would be a task for tomorrow, except for the essentials. Harry grabbed the cage out of the back of the car that housed the family's new pet, a snowy white owl used for communication.

They were all so tired that none of them noticed the giant black motorbike parked on the side of the road.

As they got in, everybody returned to their rooms, intent on sleeping very well that night. It had been an exciting day.

For Harry though, things were about to get even more exciting.

When Harry entered the room he expected to see the Shinigami playing with toys on the floor, not for him to be sitting on the chest of a giant man in a coat, braiding the man's scruffy beard. Harry almost dropped the cage, but caught himself, and closed the heavy door before putting the sleeping owl's cage in the corner.

"What are you doing? Who is he?" Harry hissed.

The Shinigami laughed, as he often did. **"Well, this is one Rubeus Hagrid, and I'm braiding his beard. I have to say, his beard is very soft, he must condition it."**

"But why is he here? Why is he unconscious?" Harry came over and looked at the man's face, seeing that his name was indeed Rubeus Hagrid.

The Shinigami shrugged. **"Hell if I know. All I know is he barged in here and blew apart your bed. Then he found the Death Note. He kinda passed out after I choked him a little. What a wimp…"**

Harry froze, and then looked over at the other side of his room. In his confusion, he hadn't even noticed the state his room was in, nor the black notebook sitting innocently among the wreckage.

This man was a wizard, and he had found the Death Note. Some of the writing in there was clearly Harry's, and if he went back to the wizarding world with that news, Harry would be a murderer, and probably never be able to go to Hogwarts.

" **What to do, what to do. Quite a conundrum, isn't it? You could kill him, but then you have a dead man in your room, and you'll never find out why he was here."** The Shinigami thought out loud, while fixing Rubeus's hair into pigtails.

It was quite a conundrum. Harry didn't even know this man, not really, but Harry's life was finally complete, and this man being here could screw the whole thing up. He bit his lip and a bead of sweat dripped down his face.

Finally, a thought came to him, and he came to a decision.

Harry looked among the fluff and wood, finally coming upon his little pencil. He flipped open a page in the Death Note and thought for a moment on the exact wording on what he needed to do. Time to put this theory into action.

**Rubeus Hagrid wakes up at 9:30 PM and repairs what he destroyed. He then explains why he came to the Dursley household to the nearest person, as well as answering any heard questions. When he has done that, he goes to put his affairs into order, doing his best to not raise suspicion, and then has a fatal heart attack at 11:30 PM, in public.**

Harry put the last period on the last sentence and waited. When it hit 9:30 the enormous man sat up, his body passing through the Shinigami's, who squawked in protest. Harry felt a shot of elation go through him. It worked! He could control people before their death!

Rubeus's eyes focused on Harry, and he was surprised to see no fogginess or cloudiness in the giant's eyes. Didn't mind control usually do that? Rubeus waved his pink umbrella, magically repairing Harry's bed, which he then sat on, making the wood creak.

"I was sent 'ere by Professor Dumbledore to take Harry Potter to Diagon Alley." Rubeus started speaking, his voice deep and gruff. "I was to take him to get his money, and then retrieve the Philosopher's Stone." Oh shit. This guy was supposed to be the person to take him to Diagon Alley.

" **Hehe, I guess that was a mistake."** The Shinigami chuckled. Harry turned to him and opened his mouth, but the Shinigami cut him off. **"No, I cannot cancel the Death Note's effects. Once it's written, then there's nothing to be done."**

Harry clicked his tongue. This certainly was annoying. He didn't even notice that his mind was so warped he considered killing an innocent man to be more of an inconvenience than anything else. He planned to dismiss the man, but then the man stood up and began pulling things out of his pockets.

"What are you doing?" Harry questioned the man. "Putting my affairs in order." Rubeus said curtly.

As he searched two keys fell out of his pockets, both of them clicking down on the ground, both of which Harry picked up and examined. One had an ornate 'P' on it, while the other had the number 713. All the while Hagrid's attention was focused on pulling things out of his pockets, searching for something.

"I can't find 'em now, but the key with the P on it is 'Arry Potter's, while the other one is Professor Dumbledore's, it's the key to the Philosopher's Stone. Please give those to them." He then pulled out what looked like motorcycle keys, giving them to Harry.

"These are also 'Arry's, they're the keys to Orion, I left it outside." Rubeus patted the rest of his coat, and then shed it completely, letting it fall to the ground. Then he started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Harry was confused. "Public." Once again the answer was curt and clear. "What about your affairs?"

Rubeus shrugged. "That's all I 'ave. No family. No Gringotts vault." He stood still for a moment, as if waiting for more questions, but when Harry stayed silent, he simply left.

Harry stared at the keys he now possessed, then put them in the coat and hid it in his closet. He would have to find a better hiding place both for his new inheritance and the Death Note in the morning. For now he put the magic artifact back in its old hiding place and got into bed.

He lay there for a long while, looking up at the ceiling. Finally he looked at his clock and found it was already past 11:30. Rubeus Hagrid, the man who left Harry all he had, was already dead.

Harry rolled over and went to sleep.

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**Yes, Hagrid is dead. Have you noticed he never dies? Or if he does, it's never a big deal. Hagrid's death will have repercussions in this. And also I wanted to show that Harry is already screwed up.**

**Something I think is unique to this Harry Potter/Death Note crossover is that more people are born with Shinigami Eyes, which is actually canon, as it happened to Beyond Birthday. In magical people, it also allows one to see magic, which is important.**

**And if you were paying attention, you'd know a very important person has Shinigami Eyes too.**

**Also, if you flame me, whether for killing off Hagrid or for making Petunia a lesbian, just know that I don't care. And just to make it sweeter, every flame makes me more likely to kill off other likable characters. Don't make me turn this into Game of Thrones.**

**Please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Potter and the Death Note

Chapter Four: Departure

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Harry was nervous. Now, this was nothing new to the boy, as everyone gets nervous at some point or the other. But this time was diffrent. This wasn't nervousness about a test grade, or having eaten dessert secretly before dinner, or being discovered as a serial killer.

No, this was the nervousness that a lot of kids felt around their peers. However, most kids didn't enter a new school where everyone expected him to be a powerful, Dark Lord defeating pressure to perform made his hands sticky with sweat and he felt warm. "Penny, do I have to dress like this?" Harry whined, tugging at the tightness of the tie around his throat.

Penny nodded sharply and once more tried to flatten a few stray ends of hair sticking up on Harry's head. After a few years of proper washing and combing it settled down, but random ends still stuck out like thorns. By request, his bangs fell low enough to cover his scar.

"Yes you do, darling. You said you were some big celebrity among the wizards, and you need to live up to that if you don't want to be beat down. Plus you look very handsome like this."

Harry flushed in embarrassment as a teenager caught sight of Penny slicking back his hair and sniggered. "People are looking!" He hissed, seeing all the people bustling around the crowded train station. Thankfully most of them were too concerned with going about their business to notice Harry's embarrassment. Actually, people looked more at the snowy white owl, Hedwig, than at her owner.

However, Dudley was doing his best to make up for that lack of attention. "You look like a tiny lawyer, Harry." The blonde boy mocked, grinning to take the bite out of the comment. Harry tried to control his blush as Penny and Petunia deemed him ready to enter wizarding society.

He really did look oddly fancy, especially for him, as he normally preferred baggier clothing. Dudley was allowed to wear a polo and jeans, but Harry wore a smart button up with a green and silver tie to bring out his eyes, paired with dark pants and sleek new shoes. According to his guardians, first impressions were very important.

Harry pushed along the trolley with all his things on board, looking around for Platforms 9 and 10, all the while seeing different names and lifespans floating above people's heads. He immediately spotted where he was supposed to go, not because he had seen the signs, but because of the amazingly bright ball of magic he saw.

He stopped his trolley and simply stared. The light encompassed an entire wall, different colors entwining and shifting through and around the brickwork. Even though he had seen some colors around Diagon Alley, they were nowhere near as bright or complex as the wall before him. It was breathtaking.

"Harry, why'd you stop? We're here, this is the entrance." Harry nodded absently, and noted the family of gingers walk up to and _through the wall._ The light had swallowed them whole, twisting and then resuming its original pattern. It was one thing to hear his Aunt talk about this; it was another to actually watch it happen.

" **Yes, it's all very pretty. Let's get on with this, I'm bored."** The Shinigami groaned, floating in the air above Harry. He hadn't been allowed to bring any toys, as everyone would be able to see them float in the air, so he was very grumpy.

Harry heeded the Shinigami's request, wheeling forward, holding his breath. "Harry, wait!" He heard behind him, but then he was gone. In a whirl of light, he was staring at a scarlet steam engine. Harry looked around, seeing all the people parading around in cloaks of differing colors and qualities.

"Ooff!" Harry had stood looking too long, and Dudley slammed into his back, sending them both sprawling. It just so happened to send them both careening into members of the large red headed family.

Harry completely bowled over the only girl, who was smaller than even him, while Dudley took down a larger, rather pompous looking boy.

It took several confusing seconds to get his bearings, in the process accidently groping the smaller girl (not that he knew that), but before he could get up and apologize, someone grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him up, choking him in the process.

Harry barely had a moment to see a red face and hair before a fist slammed into his face with a sick crunch, sending him to the floor again.

"Ronald! How dare you hit that young man?" Harry heard a voice screech. Harry glanced up and saw the mother shaking the boy who had punched him, while the rest of the family looking on, the little girl now hiding behind her father. Dudley, who had distangled himself from the older boy, came rushing over to his cousin's side.

"That kid attacked Ginny, mum! You saw him, he was feeling her up and everything!" the boy shouted back at his mother, sending a glare over at Harry in disgust. Harry glared back at the boy, but it wasn't as intimidating with the crooked nose and blood running down his face. He had to restrain himself from letting his Eyes flash.

That, of course, was when both Petunia and Penny came on the scene.

"What did you do to my nephew?" Petunia immediately got up in the mother's face, directing her attention off of Ronald and onto herself. Penny, meanwhile, was mopping up Harry's face and making sure no blood got on his shirt.

The mother swelled up to defend against the sudden verbal attack when Ronald jumped in again. "Your nephew attacked my sister!" He snarled, trying to puff up his pre-pubescent frame with anger.

"That's not what happened, Harry accidently landed on her after I slammed into him." Dudley stood beside his mother, arms crossed and arms narrowed. He was much taller than Ronald, and some of the fight seemed to go out of the boy.

The red headed father, a thin balding man that Harry saw was named Arthur Weasley, stepped in with a meek expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry about this, Ron is very protective of his little sister, and I'm sure he didn't mean to seriously harm your nephew. I'll heal him up right now, in fact. Show of good faith and all." The man's wand flicked towards Harry and his nose slid back into place, eliciting a quiet swear from the boy.

The two families parents began to talk, the less hot tempered of both (Penny and Arthur) helping calm them all down. Dudley helped Harry to his feet and the two groups left, each heading for different ends of the train.

Before they left, Harry and Ron glared at each other, both full of righteous indignation. Just before they both lost view though, Ron's eye caught on the green and silver tie the black haired boy had on, and he sneered as pieces in his head clicked into place. That Slytherin wouldn't get away with this, he promised himself.

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By the time Harry had said his goodbyes and he had found a compartment, his temper had cooled enough that he didn't immediately pull the Death Note out of his trunk and kill Ron Weasley in the most gruesome way he could imagine.

Instead, he pulled out _Magical Theory_ , and extra book he had picked up at the suggestion of the cashier at Flourish and Blotts. He was a little nervous he would have trouble performing spells in class, so he wanted to go ahead and study now, so he wouldn't get embarrassed later. Besides, everyone would expect the Boy-Who-Lived to be good at magic, right?

" **God, are you going to give me my toys at any point during the trip? It's not like anyone will want to sit with you."** The Shinigami complained. He was lying down on the ceiling; however it was he did that, and was trying to make a game out of spitting a pattern onto the floor below. It was unsuccessful.

Harry grunted and flipped a page. The Shinigami took that as a yes and phased his hand through the trunk, pulling out his favorite red fire truck. Hedwig, who was still confined to her cage, watched the ethereal creature and squawked when the Shinigami got too close.

It was a few minutes later, when the train was about to leave the station, that the door to Harry's compartment slid open. Harry looked up over the top of his book and his gaze sharpened into a glare.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He spat. Ron Weasley looked no happier to see him, but entered anyway, closing the door behind him. "Everywhere else is full, so I have to sit here. Not like I want to…" Ron glowered back at Harry and took up a position on the opposite side of the compartment after putting his trunk up, not noticing the flying red truck.

"There were plenty of other compartments, I saw them as I got on, go pick one of those."

Ron sneered at Harry. "God, you must be one of those bookworm Slytherins that never do anything." He mocked.

"I'm not a Slytherin. I don't even know what that means." Harry sent back. Ron looked confused for a moment, his temper temporarily abated.

"What do you mean you're not a Slytherin? You're so…" Ron gestured up and down Harry's body, a hint of contempt coming back into his voice.

"No, I'm not a Slytherin, whatever that means. I'm just a first year that _accidently_ fell on your sister." Harry didn't like talking to this boy. Whatever a Slytherin was, it was clear that Ron didn't like it, so it must be awesome.

The picture that had come together so nicely in Ron's head unraveled. He had been so sure Harry had been some scrawny second-year Slytherin, dared to mess with the blood traitor Weasleys, but maybe it had actually been an accident. He opened his mouth, not exactly sure what he was going to say, but Harry closed his book sharply and got up.

"I'm going to find a different compartment. You can have this one, Weasley." Harry sneered. He grabbed his trunk and lugged it out the door, carrying Hedwig's cage in the other hand. Ron didn't even ask how Harry had known his name; he just sighed and pulled out _Flying with the Cannons._

Then he noticed there was an odd splotch on the carpet that looked oddly like a skull. He leaned over and touched it briefly, then groaned his disgust, wiping the spit on a clean space of carpet.

He could have sworn he heard laughter, but he shrugged it off and went back to reading.

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Harry dragged his trunk down the train until he found another empty one where he could continue reading, but it was stuck. He set down his trunk and tried pulling on the handle with both hands but it wouldn't budge. Hedwig let out a bark that sounded like laughing.

"That won't work." Harry turned around and found a pair of girl his own age standing behind him. Both were looking at him with amusement that made him feel stupid. They looked like opposites, one with long straight blonde hair and a complexion that suggested she didn't spend much time in the sun, while the other had wild brown curls and had a dark tan.

He looked at their faces and made out their name: Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis.

"Why not?" He questioned, pushing down his embarrassment. Were there code words or something?

"A lot of the compartments are locked by year. Supposedly some of the older Hogwarts students were tired of their…private time… being intruded on that they keyed every compartment with some sort of identification. First years have access to the least number of cabins, so we normally don't get them to ourselves." Daphne explained primly.

"That's the most official explanation. I think the adults did it on purpose, so that the first years would have to sit with one another and make friends." Tracey piped up. Daphne turned back to her friend. "I told you that don't make any sense; people make more friends within their Houses at Hogwarts than on their trip."

"Yeah but the friends they make here could influence what House they get into." Tracey shot back. Harry got the feeling this was an old argument and couldn't help the edge of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

Unfortunately, they caught onto that. "What's so funny? Do we look like clowns to you?" Tracey got really close to him and Harry backed up, his back hitting the wall. He almost went for his wand, despite the fact that he knew no spells, but she backed up and laughed. "Look at that! He looked so scared!"

For the second time within a few minutes Harry flushed in embarrassment. "I wasn't scared." He said boldly. Tracey raised an eyebrow and even Daphne looked amused. "Really? Because I could have sworn that you were getting _pretty_ pale for a moment there. Well, more than you are already." Tracey taunted.

Harry fought down his blush and racked his brains for something to say. What would Dudley do? His cousin was unflappable in the face of problems, but that was because he was big and intimidating. Suddenly a solution popped into his head and Harry let the suavest smile he could muster blossom on his face and he closed the distance between himself and the grinning brunette slightly.

"For a moment I thought you were going to kiss me. I wasn't emotionally prepared for such a leap, however pretty my aggressor was." Harry would look back on this move with embarrassment later, as he realized it was a lame line and that he probably looked ridiculous with his 'suave' look on his face.

But on an eleven year old girl, used by an eleven year old boy, it worked. Tracey rapidly turned a dark red and Harry felt a thrill of victory go through him. A large grin grew on his face and Daphne started to chuckle, which quickly turned into a loud laugh that Harry joined in on.

"Oh, I like this one; he managed to shut you up, Tracey." Daphne chuckled as she came down. Tracey didn't respond, her face still red with embarrassment. Daphne took the lead and offered her hand to Harry, which he shook.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass, and the blushing wonder is Tracey Davis. Why don't you come join us in our compartment?" She offered. Harry nodded enthusiastically. He didn't fancy dragging his trunk all over the Hogwarts Express looking for a compartment and tolerable people. Hedwig was getting grumpy with all the movement too.

"Harry Potter, I'd be delighted." Harry accepted. He appreciated that Daphne's face only showed surprise for a moment before returning to her normal expression. Tracey was not so restrained. "You're Harry Potter?" she yelped.

Harry nodded and decided to tease her some more. "You mean you would have kissed me even without knowing I'm famous? I'm flattered. I mean, I know I'm good looking but…" Tracey punched his shoulder and Harry noted that while her face was clear, her neck and ears started turning red.

"I wasn't going to kiss you, you prat." She hissed. High on his previous victory, Harry took a step closer to her until they were practically nose-to-nose. Her eyes widened in shock and she backed up, but this time her back hit the wall. "What a shame." Harry whispered, staring into her eyes.

Whatever willpower she had holding back her embarrassment broke and she blushed even darker than she did the first time. "Come on, Harry, you might break her. I kind of need her." Daphne drawled. Harry acquiesced and stepped away from the girl, grabbing the handle to his trunk.

"Alright, let's head off!" Harry said enthusiastically. After that incident at the train station, this really restored his good mood. He was looking forward to Hogwarts.

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"Finally, you two are back! Did you find the Trolley Lady?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and the dark skinned boy looked at him in surprise. "Oh jeez, sorry, I thought you were someone else." The boy apologized. Harry read his name as Blaise Zabini and entered the compartment, swinging his trunk onto the racks above and setting Hedwig in the corner.

"It's us, Blaise. And no. Guess the rumors were true." Tracey announced, stepping into the compartment, followed by Daphne. The three all settled down, with Harry greeting Blaise and letting the boy get over the shock of him being Harry Potter.

"What rumor were you two chasing?" Harry questioned. Daphne and Tracey directed their eyes to Blaise, who cleared his throat theatrically and turned down the dial on the light above them, along with closing the shades on the window, plunging them into near complete darkness.

"Of all the legends Hogwarts has ever produced," Blaise began, his voice grand and dramatic, ", the greatest is the mystery of the Trolley Lady."

Harry scoffed. "Really? The Trolley Lady of the Hogwarts is the most mysterious thing in a world where wizards and witches exist?"

Blaise glared at Harry and the two girls shushed him back into silence. "As I was saying," Blaise continued. "Back when Hogwarts fist opened and the Hogwarts Express started being used to cart us to school, the Trolley Lady's presence wasn't questioned. After all, those sweets would help the children bond and the extra funds would help Hogwarts in general. But after several years, people began noticing things."

"For one thing, no one knows what her name is. People have asked, but she never answers. Even the Headmasters didn't know. That's rights. Headmasters, not Headmaster. Because all this time, the Trolley Lady has remained the same. Every generation has seen her, and she always looks exactly the same."

"She's a vampire!" Tracey was the one to interrupt this time, her voice excited. Harry could make out Blaise's eye twitch and mentally noted to not interrupt anymore lest he wake the boy's wrath.

"She is not a vampire." Blaise said with forced calm. "People have thought so, but she has been shown crosses and doused with holy water, but she still lives on. She's older even than Dumbledore, who thought she was old when he was eleven. Even more than that, she seems to live on this Express. She's never been sighted anywhere else, and she only ever appears half-way through the journey to sell us sweets. After that, she disappears, and no one can find where she goes off to, even if they follow her."

Blaise leaned in, and Harry did so as well, without knowing why. Daphne and Tracey did too as Blaise's voice fell to a whisper. "She's a witch, that much is obvious, but she's older than any witch in recorded history. Perhaps she's a protector, in case the Hogwarts Express is attacked. Or maybe she's a watcher, checking for threats among the students. After all, some students are known to go…. _missing_."

Blaise paused and all three of his listeners watched him with impatience. "Or maybe they don't just go missing. Maybe she grINDS THEM UP AND PUTS THEM IN HER PUMPKIN PASTRIES!" Harry shot back as Blaise's voice suddenly rose and he had to swallow a scream.

Blaise laughed deep and malevolent, his amusement obvious. Then the compartment door shot open with a loud smash and all four of them screamed.

"Anything off the trolley, dearies?" It was an old woman with a happy smiling face, pushing a cart filled to the brim with sweets of all kind. The quartet exchanged glances, none of them willing to speak. "Nothing then? So sad, those who don't buy candy off my trolley often come to a bad end." The Trolley Lady said mournfully.

"WE'LL TAKE ALL OF IT." Blaise screamed, his eyes wide with panic. He threw a heavy purse at the Lady. There was a blur of motion, and then the bag was gone. The Lady tipped her cart over, spilling the load of candy onto the floor.

Harry looked at the Lady with amazement and fear. Her Trolley was already re-filled with candy. But more than that, he couldn't see her name or lifespan above her head. What was she?

The Lady went on her way and the door slammed shut without anyone touching it, the lights also coming back to its previous brightness without anyone touching it.

"Blaise….wasn't that all the money your mom gave you for the year?"

"Yes. Yes it was."

"…..Thank you. We owe you one."

"Damn straight."

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The rest of the trip to Hogwarts passed with little more fanfare. There had been a girl that barged in looking for a toad, but that was about it. Harry passed the time by talking with Blaise and Daphne, as well as teasing Tracey. They worked their way through the candy, but there was simply too much, and they ended up stuffing a lot of it into their respective trunks.

By the time the Train arrived, night had fallen and clouds were gathering on the horizon. Harry hoped it wouldn't rain while they were still outside, these robes would get really heavy if they got waterlogged.

"Students, over here! Get in the boats, groups of four please! Don't want to fall in the Lake after all!" Harry followed the jovial sounding voice and found it to be coming from a very tiny man, who was standing on the tip of one of the boats, one Fillius Flitwick.

Harry got into a boat with his group and they all pushed off.

"No, Trevor's back there!" Harry heard someone squeal from another boat.

"Trevor? Did we miss a student?" The small man seemed concerned. He waved his wand an all the boats stopped moving.

"Sorry, sir, Neville lost his toad on the train and we couldn't find it. We're not missing a student." Harry caught sight of the bushy haired girl that had come through asking about a toad, the one who was talking. The short man chuckled.

"That's simply solved, young Neville. Accio Trevor the Toad!" Flitwick squeaked. In just a moment, a dark spot rushed into the man's hand, which he then handed off to Neville, who gave a shout of delight.

"Was that safe?" Blaise muttered. Harry sent him a questioning look and he elaborated. "I mean, if the toad was in the train, was he guided through the corridors and out the door? Or was he just summoned through a window?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Magic, I guess." Blaise grumbled and Tracey laughed. With that minor bump out of the way the boats proceeded, and they soon were within sight of Hogwarts Castle.

When Harry caught sight of the Castle his breathe was taken away. It was a large, grand building straight out of the medieval period, with over seven stories of stone and majestic towers. More than that, it was bright, lit from within by its power. The light of the portal at the station was nothing compared to the complexities of Hogwarts. They twirled and intersected in odd, untraceable patterns, with delicate differences in shades that Harry hadn't seen in any painting.

Harry continued staring until the castle became larger and larger, allowing Harry to see further into its light. Then the boats bumped into the shore and Harry had to tear his eyes away from the Castle to get out of the boat.

The mass of students began walking up a steep hill until they were greeted by an enormous double door of iron and bronze studs. Flitwick flicked his wand and the knockers on the doors slammed into the metal, creating such a loud noise several of the closer students were forced to cover their ears.

Then, the doors slowly swung inwards, revealing a tall thin woman with a stern expression and a twisting witch's hat adorning the stiff bun that her hair was pulled up into. If her hard eyes and regal appearance hadn't alerted Harry to her power, then the soft drumbeat of her magic would have. He was instantly on guard. He knew not to mess around with Minerva McGonagall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, children. Come in, come in, it's time for the Sorting Ceremony!" Harry took a deep breath and stepped into Hogwarts, followed by his new friends, new classmates, and an invisible Shinigami, whose grin never faltered.

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**Hello, beloved readers! Have another helping of Harry Potter and the Death Note! This is mostly a character introduction and filler chapter, which I'm not great at, so any feedback would be welcome.**

**Warnings:**

**At this point, no pairing is confirmed. Tracey and Harry's interaction reflects several interactions I've seen between close female and male friends, so while this may develop into a relationship later, right now they're more like rivals/friends.**

**I'm honestly trying not to bash Ron, but in the situation I needed someone needed to push Harry away from Gryffindor, and Ron was just defending his little sister. So while I don't really like him, I'll do my best to be fair.**

**The Death Note may be in the background for a bit, but it'll still be a driving force in the story, as will the Shinigami, who I'm going to name next chapter. For any suggestions, shoot me a review or PM and I'll take it into account.**

**Warnings End**

**The thing with the Trolley Lady is inspired by reading Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, in which the Trolley Lady IS TERRIFYING. Seriously, she's one of the most powerful things in the series, and all she does is make and sell sweets. She can do wandless magic on herself to transform her hands into knives, and is physically fit enough to do a pull up. How many 20 year olds do you know that can do that? And she's like 170.**

**Also, if I get enough feedback for this chapter (a few reviews wouldn't hurt) then I'll be bringing a very special friend into the story. One who has a fondness for apples.**


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